Beneath Your Perfect
by littlequinntana
Summary: "On the outside, she was seemingly perfect. But I guess even perfect people have secrets." Quinntana AU! Angst and mentions of abuse. Pezberry friendship.
1. Out of My League

**This is a Quinntana fic, but quite AU. Touches on child abuse, so if that upsets you in anyway, please don't read it. Multi chapter. Enjoy!**

* * *

Everyone has secrets.

Like me.

Or like my mother, who has a lot of secrets, probably too many to list right here, right now.

I think the best part of having a secret is the fact that no one knows; no one even suspects that you have a secret. It's like when you find an amazing new band and only you, out of all your friends, know about it. But it's a bit more exclusive than that. I think of secrets as a VIP room, you know, the ones in clubs. Everybody has at least one VIP room to their self, and no one's allowed in your VIP room until you let them in on the secret. But then again, I don't think it can be called a secret after someone else knows about it.

Sometimes I wonder if there is actually anybody in the world who doesn't have a secret, and who is quite willing to just shout all their feelings from the rooftops. But I think that's just stupid. Because I think everybody has a secret, at least one, even if they don't realize it. Like experiencing something and then just not bothering to tell anyone, or not having anyone to tell.

Maybe a secret isn't the right word for that definition though. That's more of a personal story, I guess.

"This is your locker." The redhead chick that was showing me around tapped me on the shoulder. "Hey, I _said_, this is your locker." She was becoming increasingly irritated as I zoned out. She huffed and stormed off down the hallway, her startling red ponytail swinging.

I never learnt her name. I didn't think there was much point; she wasn't going to be my friend.

I sighed and opened my locker. I had already memorized my locker combination, so there was no need to write it down on a piece of paper like the principal or the redhead chick had suggested. I stared at the emptiness, my hand lingering over the dents of the door. I have nothing to decorate my locker with. No pictures. No trinkets. I don't even have any books yet, so my locker, Locker 443, is to remain empty and cold till I get my first book.

"Excuse me." Someone taps on my shoulder, and I'm fully convinced it's the pissy redhead again till I turn around and come face to face with an unnaturally short brunette. She grinned at me, her smile toothy and _bright_. Like, Hollywood bright.

"Hello, I'm Rachel Barbra Berry." She extended her hand and I tentatively shook it, swaying on the spot awkwardly. Her smile unnerved me, and it didn't ever drop, not even the slightest. She just had this massive grin plastered on her face, and I swear to God I didn't see her blink even once.

"And you are?"

"Santana Lopez." I told her, pulling my backpack back over my shoulders.

"Nice to meet you, Santana. I saw Penelope just abandoned you, so I took it upon myself to be your guide." Rachel leant in, her disturbing smile growing ever bigger by the second. "No need to thank me."

"I wasn't going to." I muttered to myself, but she's much too busy looking around the hallway and flattening her bangs to take notice of what I'm saying.

"Have you got Math first?" She asked me, and I nodded in response. She brightened up immediately, the creepy smile returning.

"Same!" She squealed, turning on her heel and leading me down the hallway. I rolled my eyes but follow all the same; sure, I have a map, but I'm crap at map reading and seeing as 'Penelope' went off, maybe this Rachel chick would come in handy.

She practically skipped down the hallway, and I couldn't help but cringe at how _terrible _her dress sense was. Little pink ballet flats, lilac plaid skirt, baby pink shirt and a girly animal sweater on top. I kept my thoughts to myself, instead settling for wincing and cringing at her little girl outfit when she wasn't looking. Which was pretty often, seeing as she was too busy babbling on about Barbra Streisand and musicals and decorating her locker. I could already tell, what with her loud personality and love of talking that she was a girl who probably had secrets, but ones that weren't particularly scandalous. Just things like she still slept with a stuffed toy, or she hated the dark. Nothing big or shocking.

"Here we-" Rachel's sentence was cut short when a 6ft jock chucked a red slushie drink right in her face. She gasped, the drink dripping down her face, into her mouth, onto her sweater. All I do is watch, shifting awkwardly on the spot.

I learnt over the years not to help-it just makes it worse.

I looked around and spotted a blonde girl, a few inches taller than me, giggling away by her locker. Rachel looked over at her too, her eyes brimming with tears by now. The blonde girl stopped her laughing momentarily to smirk at Rachel, standing with her hands on her hips. It's only then that I realize she's clad in a red WMHS cheerleader uniform. From her superior stance, bold uniform and smug smile, it's obvious to tell that she's head honcho.

It's not hard to see she's keeping a lot of secrets.

* * *

The blonde chick kept reappearing. I swore to God she was stalking me sometimes.

Obviously she wasn't because, well, I'm _me _and she's…_her. _I didn't even know her name yet but she was quite obviously miles above me in the social ladder.

But then again, most people were.

I didn't officially meet her until Mr Schue paired us together in Spanish. I pretended not to notice the eye roll or the sniggers from her friends. I pretended it didn't hurt when she sighed loudly and asked to work on her own. Mr Schue hushed the class before speaking.

"No, I'm sorry, Quinn, but everyone is working in partners. Anyway, Santana is great at Spanish, so it's not like she'll be dragging you down or anything." _Quinn. _I looked over at said girl and I realized how fitting the name was. I couldn't imagine her with any other name.

Except maybe Bitch.

"But, _Sir_," Quinn whined, and I immediately braced myself for the insult. "You can see her socks when she wears roll-up jeans. It's common knowledge that when you wear cut off or roll-up jeans, you don't wear socks unless they're trainers socks, in which case, you can tuck them in. I'm sorry, but I'm not working with _that_." Her voice was acid, and she looked over at me angrily on the last word.

"Quinn! Enough!" Mr Schue put his foot down, glaring at Quinn. "You are working with Santana, and if you don't, then you will fail Spanish." He hissed menacingly. Quinn immediately shut up, as did her posse. She still made a 'you're dead' sign by slicing her hand across her throat when Mr Schue's back was turned though. I sighed, suddenly exhausted, and leant back in my chair, trying to ignore the glares of Quinn and her bitchy friends.

I didn't even flinch when the mohawked guy on the football team threw a slushie at me after Spanish. It was to be expected; after all, Quinn and him were pretty close, and I was sure boys would do anything for Quinn.

I wiped away the ice cold humiliation, my eyes stinging from the corn syrup. Even though my eyesight was blinded, I could still vaguely make out a large group of kids laughing and pointing. I pushed past them all and make my way to the toilets to clean up.

I saw Rachel Berry as I passed. She stood by her locker, watching me until Quinn appeared behind her. I hurried off, not wanting to see what was evidently about to go down.

* * *

"How was school?" My mom asked me. She was drinking from her water bottle again, the one that you can't see inside. She wasn't fooling anyone; it was obviously not water in there.

"Okay." I replied, heading straight to the cupboard. I pulled out the jar of Nutella before walking over to the bread bin and grabbing a slice of white bread. I don't even bother getting a plate; I just take a knife from the cutlery draw and spread the Nutella with the bread on my hand.

"Good." My mom took a swig of her 'water', still reading her Cosmo magazine. She doesn't bother asking any more questions; she never does anymore. She used to be full of joy, always interested in my life. Now she's just dull, lifeless, a carbon copy of all her friends at the Country Club. She's losing weight rapidly by the day now, so much so that you can see the bones of wrist protruding. She tends to wear baggy stuff now, ever since my dad commented on her weight.

I took huge bites of my Nutella slice as I climbed the stairs. I kicked open my bedroom door and head straight for my laptop. As I booted it up, I stared at the picture of me, my mom and dad on my chest of drawers. My dad has his right arm around my mom, and his left resting on my shoulder. We both have these insane grins on our face, the shit-eating kind. But it reaches our eyes, unlike all of our recent pictures. Those ones are painfully fake. My dad always looks uncomfortable as hell, my mom has a huge fake grin on (kinda like the Rachel Berry smile, but ten times more intimidating) and I just look incredibly bored.

I blame my dad. If he hadn't…

I heard a pinging sound come from my laptop. I looked back and saw I had a Facebook notification. I opened it up, groaning inwardly as I read the name; _Rachel Berry. _

"Hello, Santana. It was very nice to meet you today. I hope we can talk more and get to know each other a bit more as time goes by. Rachel ." I cringed yet again as I saw the star. Jeez, this girl was eccentric.

I was about to reply when another notification popped up. This time, a message from Quinn Fabray. I clicked on it, bracing myself for a torrent of insults.

"So I guess I _have _to work with you for Spanish. Are you free tomorrow? I can't believe I'm saying this but can I come over yours? We can make a start." I raised my eyebrow in shock. Quinn was actually being…civil. Sort of. Minus the first sentence.

"I'm free tomorrow. Come over after school."

I closed down my laptop without even waiting for her reply.


	2. Please Don't Hurt Me

**Thanks for all the reviews/follows/favourites, it means a lot! xoxo (oh, and btw, the title for this story comes from the song Beneath Your Beautiful by Labrinth ft. Emeli Sande. The chapters are also lyrics from the song!)**

* * *

"I heard you got partnered with Quinn in Spanish." Rachel suddenly appeared by my locker, her eyes narrowed in determination. Determination to do what, I didn't know. I shrugged, continuing to get my books out of my locker. It was my second day of McKinley and already I had Rachel Berry interrogating me.

"Yeah, you heard right." I answered bluntly. She continued to stare at me, her eyes watching my every move.

"Who is that?" She asked, pointing to the picture of my parents and I. I have a blob of blu-tack in the other hand, about to stick the picture onto the inside of my door. I instantly become self-conscious, vulnerable even.

"Are you honestly that dim? They're obviously my parents." I snapped, shooting a glare at Rachel. She immediately closed in on herself, leaning back against the locker. At least she had stopped staring at me.

I huffed and stuck the picture on. Finally my locker didn't look so goddamn empty and grey.

"Oh no." I heard Rachel squeak before she scurried off. I turned around in confusion, wondering what on earth sent Rachel running. The sight of one Quinn Fabray, trademark HBIC glare in place, immediately met me. She spotted me and sauntered over, her hands placed on her hips. Everyone immediately turned to look at me, but I avoided all their gazes. They probably thought she was about to bitch slap me or something. Maybe she was. But she didn't look as hostile as she did yesterday.

"Santana." Quinn greeted me in her annoyingly girly, nasally voice. She looked me up down, her striking hazel eyes raking my body. She raised one eyebrow expertly, looking back into my eyes. I'm suddenly feeling incredibly uncomfortable and I scuffed the floor with my Converse, my eyes glued to the scummy, gum-covered ground. Quinn cleared her throat and I'm forced to look back up again. She crossed her arms across her chest, waiting for me to say something, _anything_. I opened my mouth, willing myself to say something clever and witty, something to make Quinn respect me.

"The name's Lopez, Santana Lopez." I sighed, closing my eyes. Fuck. I just did my terrible James Bond impersonation. I was fully expecting Quinn to be judging me harshly. I tentatively opened one eye, and, sure enough, her eyebrow is raised in question, a half-sneer on her face.

"I can't believe I have to work with you." She hissed, rolling her eyes. "Whatever. Meet me by the front gates at 3:10, okay? We can to your house, I guess. Don't be late." She turned on her heel, the pleats her short Cheerio skirt flipping up. I cringed at how socially awkward I was, and turned back to my locker.

How the hell was I meant to spend one on one time with Quinn when I could barely greet her?

* * *

"Stay away from Quinn." There she was again; my very own Rachel Berry mascot. I rolled my eyes, gritting my teeth to stop myself snapping at her. Rachel caught my eye roll and placed a hand on my arm. I was just putting some books in my locker when she magically appeared by my side, that annoying concerned look on her face. "I'm serious, Santana. She's bad news. She may seem nice sometimes, not very often, but she is a heartless _bully_. Trust me, I know."

"I may regret asking this but how on earth would _you _know?" I asked, slamming my locker and leaning against it, facing the unnervingly short girl.

"Well, if you must know, Quinn and I were great friends before we became freshman…"

"This is sounding very Mean Girls-esque to me."

"Let me finish. We were great friends until she got some huge makeover and became super pretty and super _bitchy_. Then she became Head Cheerleader and started dating Finn Hudson and her attitude just got worse and worse. Now I'm the target of all her pranks because she knows it gets to me. She used our friendship to her advantage, to climb the social ladder." Rachel was near tears by then, her expressive brown eyes brimming with tears. I awkwardly chewed my lip, not sure of what to say.

"Well…I doubt Quinn and I will become friends. It's only because we were forced to go together by Mr Schue. It's not some creepy bonding session or whatever. Listen, Rachel, I will bear your advice in mind but I doubt it'll come in handy." I shrugged, pulling on my backpack. I walked off down the hallway, leaving Rachel in my wake. I could hear her huffing with annoyance even when I had walked out of the door. That girl was going to be the death of me.

I spotted Quinn stood by the gates. She was leaning against the bars, studying her cuticles. She didn't even look up until I said her name.

"Hey, Quinn." I muttered, my eyes finding the ground again. She sighed in irritation but followed me out of the gate.

We spent the whole journey to my house without speaking. Luckily it was only about 15 minutes but it felt more like an hour. The only noises to break the silence were me coughing, and her groaning and sighing (rather dramatically, I might add, and completely unnecessary too).

"You live in Lima Heights Adjacent?" Quinn finally piped up incredulously. I nodded in embarrassment. I hadn't had anyone over to mine in years, and I had completely forgotten about how people acted when they figured out where I lived. They always scoffed; Lima Heights was well known for being incredibly rough.

"Hm." Was all Quinn replied with. I, once again, chewed my bottom lip, feeling uncomfortable as hell.

I groaned inwardly as I saw my mom's car was parked in the driveway. No doubt she'd interrogate me about who Quinn was. Then later she'd beam with pride as she'd tell my father all about my blossoming social life.

As if my social life would really fix all our problems.

My mother looked up as I slammed the door behind us. Her creepy fake smile immediately replaced the previous frown I had seen when we first entered, before she had realized she had company.

"Hello, sweetie!" She exclaimed, as if she actually cared about me. She wasn't looking at me, her daughter. Her gaze was fixed on perfect motherfucking angel Quinn Fabray. "And who might you be, honey?"

"Quinn Fabray." Said girl replied with a flip of her ponytail. My mother's grin grew bigger. It was obvious to see she'd rather Quinn Fabray, charming, beautiful, sociable than me, Santana Lopez, boring, anti-social, awkward.

Who wouldn't?

"Fabray?" My mom shrieked. "Fabray? As in your mother is Judy Fabray? I know her, she goes to the Country Club!" Quinn gave my mom a stretched, fake smile. It was painfully obvious this Judy Fabray didn't have a clue who Maribel Lopez was. Why would she? Maribel, my mother, was the lowest of the low at the Country Club. She was completely transparent and terrible at socializing. Whereas, if Quinn was anything to go by, Judy was obviously a natural born social butterfly.

"Okay, mom, see you later." I muttered, taking Quinn by the elbow and directing her upstairs. Any longer with my mom and I was afraid I was going to slap that stupid smile off of her face.

The first thing Quinn did when we entered my room was sigh. And it was one of those snarky, _oh-dear-God-I-have-to-spend-an-hour-in-this-hell-hole _sighs.

This was going to be the longest hour of my life.

* * *

"Repeat after me; _mi nombre es_." I repeated slowly. "_Mi nombre es." _

"_Mi…_Ugh, this is way too hard." Quinn complained. I rolled my eyes, irritated by her lack of determination. It wasn't even _hard _stuff, just basic greetings. It was only to test our knowledge on the basics of Spanish. Luckily for me, I had grown up in a household were the majority of the time, my family spoke in Spanish. When I reached about 12, we started talking more and more in English. Now Spanish is reserved only for arguments.

"It's not _hard_, Quinn. Jesus Christ." I muttered, leaning against the headboard of my bed. Quinn immediately looked up and glared at me angrily, sneering.

"_Don't _say the Lord's name in vain." She hissed, snapping her Spanish exercise book shut. Her phone started ringing and she paused her glaring briefly to pull it out of her pocket. A look of terror crossed her face, but she quickly covered it up by resuming her glaring at me.

"Hello, daddy." Her voice was uncertain, cautious. I was intrigued, but I nonchalantly flipped through my exercise book, pretending not to be eavesdropping.

"I'm at Santana's house, we got paired together in Spanish. Lima Heights Adjacent. I'm sorry. Um, bye, daddy." She bit her lip nervously, pushing her phone into her pocket.

"I have to go. My daddy's picking me up." Quinn stuttered, stuffing everything into her bag and standing up. "Bye." She rushed out and downstairs before I could say anything.

"Bye, Quinn! Tell your mother I said hello!" My mom yelled after Quinn.

I dropped my exercise book, my mind going into overdrive.

Why did she apologize to her dad? Why did she sound so…petrified and anxious when she talked to him?


	3. You Couldn't Stop if You Tried It

**Thank you all so, so much for the reviews, follows and favourites! Xoxo Oh, and this is set in junior year (season 2) and follows pretty much everything that's happened in the show, except Quinn hasn't joined Glee Club and obviously Santana wasn't there in Sophomore year.**

* * *

"Up! Up! Get up!" My mother's incredibly shrill voice pierced through my sleep-induced haze. I grumbled, rubbing my eyes.

"What time is it?" I mumbled, my voice muffled by the pillow.

"7am." My mother replies casually, pulling back my duvet. She opened my window and I looked over at her, wincing as the light stung my eyes.

"_7am? _It's _a Sunday_." I replied, my voice incredulous and practically dripping with sleep. I raised my head briefly, before quickly dropping it against the pillow again.

"Yes, honey, and we have church."

"We don't go to church."  
"Well we do now. So, get up or we'll be late!" And with that, my mother skipped out.

Damn it.

* * *

"Why are we at church again? I'm sure," I paused to yawn and wipe away sleepy dust from my right eye. "Sundays were invented for sleeping and lie ins. You know-sleepy Sundays? Anyway, we aren't even religious." I looked my mom in the eyes, silently pleading with her to allow me to go back home and _sleep_, goddamnit.

"Well, I just thought to myself, life is short, try something new." My mother replied, looking away as she walked into the church. I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms across my cardigan-clad chest. Yes, my mother had forced me out of my usual t-shirt and jeans attire and made me wear a disgusting baby blue skirt, blouse and a white cardigan.

"There's the Fabrays." I told her and she immediately stopped smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles in her skirt to spin around. That stupid smile immediately appeared and she grabbed my hand, gliding over to the effortlessly perfect Fabrays. They were all classically attractive; all blonde, fair skinned. Judy and Quinn were petite and elegant, and Quinn's father was the epitome of a wealthy, well-educated man.

"Judy! Quinn!" My mother practically squealed, her smile growing ever bigger, as if she were greeting old friends. Judy's face was priceless; she was obviously wondering who the hell my mother was, and _why _she was grinning so madly.

"Oh…hello. And you are?" Judy's voice was sickly sweet, even though what she was saying probably crushed my mother's soul and heart. I stifled a laugh, covering it up with a cough. My mom remained ever optimistic, her smile faltering only slightly.

"Maribel Lopez! I go the country club! My daughter, Santana, knows Quinn from school. They were partnered in Spanish so Quinn came over the other day after school to study, isn't that right girls?" I nodded awkwardly, trying to catch Quinn's eye. The blonde flushed red and her father moved his hand to rest it on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Judy opened her mouth to speak again, but that was when the minister came in, hushing everyone. Mom gave the Fabrays an exuberant wave, much like an overexcited puppy wagging her tail. Judy gave a curt nod, and both daughter and father looked away, their eyes fixed on the floor. My mom and I walk to the back of the church and sit in the cold, hard, uncomfortable pew. I sighed, closing my eyes, leaning against the bench back, groaning internally as I realize I have to spend an hour sat there, listening to the minister drone on and on.

My eyes fluttered open, only to realize Quinn Fabray was staring at me. Even when we locked eyes, she didn't redirect her gaze. We continued to stare at each other until her father put his hand on her shoulder again and whispered in her ears. And there it was again; that same terrified look she wore when her dad called her on Tuesday at my house. That same look that flashes briefly across her face before being replaced by a neutral expression. It's like…she realizes she's showing emotion and she has to quickly close up again. Quinn's lips pursed together as her father spoke to her, and her gaze was redirected to the floor. But I saw the terror in her eyes. She turned back, facing toward the minister and I'm forced to do the same.

* * *

I jumped out of my skin when I felt a hand grip my shoulder as I walked out of church. My eyes narrowed in anger. Who the hell did they think they were, just going around, grabbing me randomly? I was about to spin round and speak my mind when said person pulled me to the side of the church, out of view and out of earshot of everyone else. I slapped the hand away and turned to face the person, one eyebrow rising when I was faced with Quinn. Her startlingly hazel eyes were cold and hardened, her mouth turned down into a sneer.

"_Why on earth are you here?" _Quinn hissed. I rolled my eyes, moving to walk away, but she grabbed my wrist. Despite being so small, she was incredibly strong. Well, she was a cheerleader after all.

"My mom dragged me here. You honestly think I'd be up this early to listen to some old dude ramble on about the Bible? Please." I scoffed.

"You expect me to believe you? I _know _why you're here! You're obviously trying to get the inside scoop on my life, figure out some dirt and then spread it. You want to be popular and you're determined to ruin my life to get what you want. But guess what, Lopez? I don't have secrets."

_Liar, liar, liar._

"And even if I did," _But you do_. "You would never find out, got it? So go take your nosy _cow _of a mother and leave. Don't come back to this church ever again. Or mark my words, I will end you."

Quinn turned on her heel, her blonde hair flipping up in the breeze. I sighed, leaning against the wall of the church, kicking the muddy ground with my ballet flat clad feet.

"Santana!" My mother shrieked, jolting me out of my daydream. "Get off the wall! You'll ruin your cardigan! And look, you shoes are all muddy! What were you doing round here anyway…"

My mother's voice eventually becomes an incessant buzzing, her words just a noise that means nothing to me. I stared off into the distance, over the stone wall, thinking over one particular thing Quinn had said to me.

_I don't have secrets._

Of course you don't, Quinn, of course you don't.

* * *

**Rachel Berry**

_Hello, Santana. I'd ask how you are, but I have more pressing matters at hand. I don't know if you've heard, but I am a member of the McKinley High Glee Club. We're called the New Directions and we are very, very good. I was wondering, perhaps, if you'd like to join? I understand if you don't, but I feel we are friends (however, correct me if I'm wrong). Please get back to me ASAP. Rachel _

I cringed as I read her incredibly formal paragraph. Was this girl for real? Did she always act like this? I sighed, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.

**Santana Lopez**

_Hi. Thanks, but no thanks._

I hit Enter, chewing my bottom lip. Short, sweet, blunt, to the point. If she didn't get the hint, I don't know what I could do to make her understand that we are not friends. I was about to log out of Facebook when Rachel's reply came through.

**Rachel Berry**

_That's quite all right, Santana, maybe another time. I shall see you on Monday, have a spectacular weekend!_

I groaned at her enthusiasm and closed down my laptop.

I was really dreading Monday by now; Rachel, my personal mascot and Quinn, my newfound enemy. And I had Spanish on Monday as well, so there was no chance I'd be able to avoid Quinn herself.

Perfect. Just perfect.


End file.
